


please silence all cell-phones

by a_mess



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simonverse | Creekwood Series - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Meeting, M/M, Oneshot, bram greenfeld - Freeform, simon spier - Freeform, simon verse, spierfeld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mess/pseuds/a_mess
Summary: spierfeld alternate meeting AU. Simon finds the note blue left inside the shirt earlier. Blue and Simon now text all the time, and things are going really well. Now if only Bram had put his phone on silent during lunch...
Relationships: Bram Greenfeld/Simon Spier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 346





	please silence all cell-phones

Simon had no intention of wearing the shirt to school.

First of all, his wardrobe of blank T-shirts and hoodies suddenly including band tees might throw a few people for a loop. He’s not self-absorbed enough to think people actually care that much about his style where they’d notice a change, but if he knows one thing it’s that Leah would notice. And if Leah notices, Leah makes a comment, and then Nick and Abby notice, and then it spirals.

Second, He doesn’t know if that’s too desperate on his part or coming off too strong towards Blue. Even Simon knows wearing it to school the very next day would be extremely pathetic. The best he can do is email a thank you for now. Also, who knows if that would freak Blue out? I mean, it was a gift, a shirt, and yes, shirts are supposed to be worn, but is the very next day a sign where Blue would be totally freaked out? Like Woah, Simon is obsessed with me freak out?

Third, he wanted this to be a gift that was just for him. He knows that’s stupid; of course the gift is just for him, but it’s like the emails. No one else needs to know about it. It’s between him and Blue.

So, yeah. Simon had no intention of wearing it to school. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to wear it _at all_. He got home from play rehearsal—an extra hour every night, now that the show is less than two weeks away—and slumped his way through all of his work while heating up whatever his mom made for dinner. By the time he finished everything he had to do, it was close to 11:30, but nothing could’ve stopped him from trying that shirt on.

He’d never felt this sort of need before. It’s not a need like a crush-on-someone need where it’s just an aching. Or a need where it’s an I-want-that need where you forget you’re supposed to breathe when thinking of whatever it is. It’s a new need, one that doesn’t have a name yet. To him, it just feels like an unstoppable force. This isn’t physics though, there is no immovable object. There’s just his hands, complying as he removes the shirt from the bag, standing in front of the bathroom mirror waiting to try it on.

He holds it up first and just admires it. And then he admires how much Blue must know him to get him the most perfect shirt. Simons’ not even thinking about the fact that it was Elliott Smith—an A+ right there in his book—but the fact that it was just the kind of fan merch he’d wear. There is fan merch that goes way over the top, like, who would ever wear that over the top. There’s also fan merch that is more casual but just feels wrong; like the lyric they chose is weird or the design is off. Simon would browse the internet for hours looking at potential band tees he would wear if he felt like he had the right and confidence to. And, of course, Blue got him the most perfect shirt. It’s simple and not flashy. Muted colors. Comfortable fit. He’s too distracted thinking about how this boy must know him so deeply that he stands there for five minutes without even putting it on.

When he finally felt ready to try it on, Simon slipped his hand through the bottom of the shirt, but about halfway up, he feels something too thick and scratchy to be a tag. Frantically, he lifts the shirt to eye-level and sees a second piece of blue-ish-green construction paper.

In his effort to remove the paper, he’s so excited he almost rips it. His hands shake so much as he holds it up he almost can’t read it.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he begins to read the note.

_P.S. I love the way you smile like you don’t realize you’re doing it. I love your perpetual bed head. I love the way you hold eye contact a moment longer than you need to. And I love your moon-gray eyes. So if you think I’m not attracted to you Simon, you’re crazy._

And then, underneath it, a phone number. 

Blue gave Simon his phone number. He actually gave it to him.

7 million thoughts buzz through Simon’s head at once. _Is blue waiting for him to text him? Did he pressure Blue into giving the number to him? Should he text him now or wait?_ _What does this mean?_

And then: _I can text him a thanks instead of emailing one._

Rushing back to his room without even trying the shirt on, Simon begins drafting texts to Blue. 

**Simon: Hey, It’s me Simon. Thanks for the shirt.**

**Simon: Hey, It’s Simon. I love the shirt.**

**Simon: It’s me, Simon. I cannot believe you got me a freaking Elliott Smith shirt AND gave me your number!**

He went with the last one and collapsed on his bed to scream into a pillow, fitfully. Life is a Ferris Wheel indeed. He thought he’d ruined everything they had, and then Blue turns around and gives him his phone number. 

He waits up for another fifteen minutes, but decides he can’t possibly keep his eyes open any longer. He knew there was a good chance Blue would already be asleep anyway.

The next morning, he wakes up to no new text messages. He checks his phone every five minutes anyway, despite the fact that his volume is up all the way. Yeah, so he’s that pathetic. 

No new texts during his morning routine, during breakfast, during the drive to school. Nothing; it’s killing him. He knew Blue had to have a reason for giving him his number. He wouldn't do it if he had no intent of answering. Maybe he just needs some time to comprehend that this is happening. Simon would give him all the time in the world if he knew it meant in the end he would get to see Blue in person and kiss him and his perfectly grammatical lips. 

It would just mean he needed more patience. He could do patience; sometimes. He just needed to relax. 

Walking into the school, he headed towards his locker. The hustle and bustle of the hallways was so obnoxiously loud that he almost didn’t hear his phone go off. 

Almost

But of course he heard it.

Simon reached so quickly into the pocket of his sweatshirt to grab his phone and whip it out, that he accidentally threw it into the person at the locker he happened to be passing. 

Gasping, Simon looked towards the direction of where he flung his phone and his eyes met those of cute Bram. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry man. I’m a bit of a mess this morning my bad.” 

Bram looked at Simon from his position at his locker, hands cradling my phone where he caught it on reflex. His eyes softened when he saw it was Simon he was now forced into a conversation with, which he guesses for him was better than if some stranger had been the person to accidentally throw their phone at him. He really does seem to have a small problem with the quiet thing. Simon could see his shoulders relax a little from reflex tension and social interaction pressure. 

It’s only occurring to Simon now how little he knows about Bram despite the fact that he’s played soccer with one of his best friends for years and they sat at the same lunch table all school year long thus far.

Bram reaches out and hands him back his phone, smirking slightly, in the way cute Bram often does at the lunch table when Garrett says something stupid or Nick makes a fool of himself in front of Abby. “Must be something good on there.” He says, obviously making a casual play at Simon's excitement which caused this interaction in the first place.

Simon takes the phone. “Huh. I guess so.” He holds the phone up and does that smile nod thing to say thank you and continues on his way down the hall. Once he turns the corner and gets to his locker, he opens it and takes out his phone behind the locker door. Sure enough, there it is. A reply. 

**Blue: So, I’m guessing you liked it?**

Perfect grammar and punctuation, even in text. Anyone like Nick or Leah doing that and Simon would’ve ripped them apart for being a huge nerd. But, suddenly Blue does it and he just finds it incredibly hot. Figures. 

**Simon: Are you kidding me?? Best gift I’ve ever received. Easily top 10.**

And the rest of his morning continues just like that. Simon patiently waiting to feel his phone vibrate against his leg while also trying his best to remain invested in class. There are more weird breaks between texts but he’s not dense enough to not be able to apply that to the fact they’re in school.

The conversation continues naturally, the way it would in their emails. Simon is so blissfully happy that he finally has Blue’s number that he doesn't even care when two of his teachers have to remind him that phones are prohibited in school.

He’s antsy all day waiting to be able to pull out his phone and respond to Blue’s texts, but it really reaches its height during lunch. 

For one, he keeps his phone on the table instead of in his pocket. This way, when it lights up he can see it and doesn’t have to pull it out. He knows he’s being pathetic, he’s just too giddy to care. 

“What is up with you?” Abby questions directly across from him, snapping him out of his eager daydream. “All you can do is glance at that phone. What’s on it, something juicy I hope.”

“Ha Ha.” Simon deadpans. “As if. It’s nothing” he says, moving his plastic fork around the pasta salad on his plate. As far as school lunches go, it’s definitely not bad. But that still doesn’t make him feel inclined to eat it. 

“She’s right, Si.” Leah says from next to me. “I’ve never seen you so invested in the thing.” Leah makes a face that, to someone like Abby who she’s only known for a few months, would seem like she pleasantly agrees, but to me, seems like she would like nothing else in the world than to agree, but she does. 

“Oh, whatever, I’m not invested, see?” Simon says as he tucks his phone back into his sweatshirt middle pocket, trying all too hard to seem casually like he dont care _at all_ that he has to put it away _._

“He was so excited over it this morning he practically assaulted me with it.” Everyone looks up at the fact that Bram was the one who next put into the conversation. It’s not like he _never_ speaks, he does; it’s just usually he does in small sentences or phrases, and mostly when Nick or Garrett are involved. So when Bram speaks up in a conversation mainly featuring me, Abby, and Leah, it pretty much made the entire table want to join rather than just spectate. 

Cute Bram tried acting like the sudden attention wasn’t getting to him, but Simon could see that his jaw was a little tense, as if he’d clenched it slightly, waiting for someone to say something. 

“Buddy, come on. If BRAM joined the conversation to say so, then something’s up with you and the phone.” Nick claims from his spot next to Bram, where he gripped him on the shoulders and slightly shook him when he mentioned his name. 

Bram blushed a little and released a small pointed laugh. The blush looked really good on him, coloring his tanned cheeks. Simon himself felt his face get a little hot and he mumbled another “yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever” before returning once again to his pasta salad. 

The rest of his day blurs by. He almost doesn't survive the entirety of play practice without being able to check his phone, which Abby notices and fondly teases him about. At home, he texts Blue in between working and eating and everything else. He was smiling at his phone below the table so often during dinner he was too distracted to hear his mothers’ “would you like to be excused, Simon?” and responded with a meek “hmm?”

Wednesday went mostly the same. It was so much nicer texting Blue continuously rather than having to wait for wifi to answer an email.

This time, he gets to lunch and he's careful to not make it obvious that he’s waiting on his phone. 

After five minutes of half-heartedly listening to Nick and Garrett complain about the new soccer drills their coach is running while Bram enthusiastically nods at their points and occasionally adds his own two cents, Simon can’t help it and pulls out his phone. 

He sees a response from Blue. He hadn’t felt his phone go off, it must have been while he was walking back to the table or something. 

**Blue: I see you haven’t taken Mr. Wise’s advice about those sentence fragments.**

Laughing slightly to himself, forgetting his surroundings, He types a reply.

**Simon: I thought you loved my sentence fragments! Is there someone else with more adorable sentence fragments? You can tell me, it’s okay. I can handle it.**

He bites back his smile, trying to seem like he was just casually checking his phone, looking at the time, texting his mom. 

And then something happens. 

He presses send on his reply, just as his phone is going back in his pocket, looks up, and a phone goes off somewhere in close proximity. 

No one else even flinched at the noise, instead the guys at the table continued their stimulating soccer conversation which Abby listened in on, and Leah spoke in hushed tones to Morgan and Anna. 

He looked around but couldn’t see anyone visibly looking down at their phones; not near enough to matter anyway. 

Taking advantage of the sudden invisibility at his table, Simon pulled out his phone to perform an experiment.

**Simon: what changed your mind into giving me your number, btw?**

Simon made sure that he was looking up and alert when he pressed send this time. 

Once again, somewhere nearby, a phone went off, same as before. It had to be at one of the tables surrounding his. The first time could’ve been dismissed as a coincidence, but both times? Simon wasn’t superstitious enough to believe it could’ve happened twice. 

As he’s about to start casually staring down the occupants of every table surrounding his trying to scout out the source of the phone, he notices cute Bram excuse himself from Nick and Garrett, who barely acknowledge his leaving, and head towards the door. As he does so, he reaches into this back pocket and pulls out his phone. 

There’s no way, he thinks. There’s no way Blue is cute Bram. The same Bram who’s been at his lunch table right in front of him the whole time. He thinks about what he knows. 

He thought he knew Bram liked Leah based on the other day, but Simon, thinking back, realizes he failed to see that Garrett was also present in the conversation; it could easily have been him crushing on Leah. 

He knows…he knows nothing. He knows Bram is quiet, quiet can relate to Blue’s shyness. 

He also knows Bram is really smart. He need only remember the paper Mr. Wise accidentally gave him of Brams. Good at english means grammatical.

He doesn’t know about his religion, but he knows he doesn’t have Blue eyes that’s something right?

 _Bram._ wait. _Bram._

“Garrett.” Simon says. “Garrett!” A little louder. 

He gets his attention. Garrett looks slightly inconvenienced at his conversation about the price of his new cleats being paused but he answers anyway. “What, Spier?”

“What is Bram short for?”

“What?” Garrett responds at first. “Abraham. Why?”

_Abraham._

_Abraham Lincoln._

Simon doesn’t answer. He gets up as casually as he can manage and tries not to trip over his shoelaces as he walks maybe a little too quickly to the doors of the cafeteria. 

Bram. It has to be Bram. How could he never have seen it? 

Pushing the doors out of the cafeteria open, he glances down the hallway to the left and right. To his left, leaning against a random locker, facing the opposite direction, is Bram. 

Even though Simon cannot see the front of him, he can see that Bram is hunched a little, leaning over something. It has to be his phone. 

He decides to try something. He takes out his phone and turns the ringer on, putting it up on full volume, and waits. He walks out of the doorway so that he’s about 10 feet behind Bram facing him, holding his phone. 

And then, it happens. 

He sees Bram stand up straight again, and, just after he does, Simon’s phone goes off. Loud. 

They’re the only two people in the hallway which makes it echo off of the lockers. He knows Bram heard it. He saw his shoulders slightly tense when he heard the noise. 

Slowly, Bram turns around, and his eyes meet Simons. 

They’re wide and unblinking. He doesn’t seem as if he knows what to do, and, honestly, neither does Simon. He’s been waiting for months to meet Blue, and now that he has, he doesn’t know what he should be doing or saying. 

Instead, Simon looks down at his phone, at Brams text. 

**Blue: No one else has sentence fragments as cute as yours, I promise. I don't know exactly. I was dead set against not giving it to you, but then in school I saw you smile at one of your friends and I suddenly changed my mind. ;)**

Simon sees that Bram still hasn’t moved from his spot, so he texts him. 

**Simon: Bram?**

He looks up as the phone in the hands of the boy he loves goes off once again, a few feet down the hallway. 

Bram also looks down when his phone goes off, another loud echo through the hallway. 

Right afterward Simon begins walking forward towards Bram, but as he gets close enough to be in arm distance, Bram puts his arm on Simon's elbow and ushers him into the classroom closest to them, which happens to be unoccupied.

Inside Simon walks forward and runs a hand through his hair as Bram quietly shuts the door. 

Simons turns to face him, one hand still in his hair, the other one by his side. Bram stands there, his hands in front of him one tightly gripping the other, his face unsure of what exactly to say. But he speaks anyway. “Simon I-”

But Simon doesn’t want to talk. Simon just found the boy he’s been in love with for months. After so much bullshit and secrecy and Martin fucking Addison, Simon’s done talking. He surges forward and places his hands on Bram’s cheeks and kisses him. 

He feels all the tension melt out of Bram as his arms go to Simon's waist. The kiss is short. It only lasts about 3 seconds, and it's not enough. But right now, Simon would take anything.

He pulls back and looks at Brams face, his hands still on his cheeks and brams arms still hugging his middle. 

“I can’t believe you sat at my lunch table all freaking year and I didn’t know.” 

Bram laughs and removes his arms from Simon. Simon takes the hint and takes a step back, his hands back to his own sides. 

Now it's Bram’s turn to nervously run his hand through his hair. He looks down and bites his lip just a little. Simon wants to kiss him again. 

“I guess I feel kind of stupid now for not giving you my number sooner.” He says and looks back up at Simon. 

“No, you had every right to wait. I shouldn’t have pressured you the way I did anyway.” 

“No, Si, come on you didn’t do anything wrong.” He reaches across to grab Simon’s hand “If I could’ve predicted that kiss I definitely would’ve given it to you sooner.”

Simon smiles at him. “Oh yeah?” He says, taking a step closer. 

“Mhmm” Bram says, him this time being the one to kiss Simon. This one lasts no longer than the last as Bram pulls away again and says “but we should probably go back to lunch.” 

Reluctantly, the two stagger their return to the lunch room, Bram first, saying he went to the bathroom, and then Simon a minute later. 

Simon walks back in and sits down, focusing too hard on his seat and tray as to not stare pointedly at Bram on the other side of the table and a seat down. 

“And where’d you go, weirdo?” Says Abby who tilts her head in a youre-still-acting-super-odd sort of way. 

“Wait,” Leah says, “let me guess...to find service!” Nudging Simon's arm with her unused plastic knife. 

“Something like that yeah.” Simons says smirking a little. He deals with his friend's friendly prodding about his new phone obsession for the rest of the period and laughs at all the right moments, though his head is somewhere else. Somewhere across the table and a seat or two down. 

The rest of the night goes something like the last. His phone constantly going off and Simon constantly smiling ear to ear at it. The next morning too. All of it relatively familiar.

And then he gets to lunch. He sits in his usual seat. The end of the table right next to Leah, across from Abby and then Nick and finally, Bram. He says hi to everyone as he sits and throws a hidden smirk towards Bram who returns one. 

He takes out his phone and reads the text that's been waiting for him.

**Bram: I thought you should know that Garrett has been asking me all year why I suddenly get even quieter at lunch despite the fact that it's him and Nick.**

**Simon: WAIT. You mean I’M one of the cute guys who makes you all nervous?**

Simon can't help but smile at his phone, not knowing that he’s caught the attention of about half the table since he’d sat down. He looks up, still trying to bite the smile off his lips, and then sees Abby, Leah, and Garrett all looking at him with an amused sort of expression. Nick is too invested in his mac and cheese. That helps the smile go away pretty quickly. 

“What!” he defends. Glancing around at all of his friends individually. 

“Okay” Abby begins saying. ”I MUST know who you’re texting. Come on Simon.” She has a determined look on her face that says she’s joking enough to be kind about it, but she’ll do everything she can to find out who it is. 

“It’s none of your business actually, so I think I’ll just send my text, put my phone away, and change the topic of conversation.” Simon says, smirking right back at her, his phone now visible above the table which before he’d used as a shield to type. He uses one arm to hold Leah directly where she is next to him, while they all laugh at her trying her best to see around him at his phone. Chuckling, he uses his other hand to send his text to Bram. 

He just hadn’t even considered the fact that maybe he should wait, maybe Bram forgot to turn his phone on vibrate. Maybe he should’ve played the phone thing off again. 

But of course he didn’t do that.

And of course, Brams phone went off at a loud enough volume for the entire lunch table to hear, causing Leah to stop fighting against Simon's arm, Abby to stop laughing, and even Nick to look up from his food. Even Garrett stopped what he was doing to open his mouth at the boy sitting next to him.

Bram had paused in the middle of opening his water bottle. Suddenly, as if someone had pressed play on a remote, he continued opening the water bottle and stared straight ahead while he drank some, trying to act like no one just heard his phone go off from his pocket. 

“Bram” you could hear the smile in Abby's voice as she said it. “Was that YOUR phone that went off after Simon sent his text?”

Simon could do nothing but watch as he felt the color rush into his cheeks. He watched the event unfold, unable to say anything. 

“No” Bram responded too quickly, his voice an octave higher than usual. He began to play it off. He cleared his throat and tried again. “No, definitely not.” 

Two more seconds passed before the entire table erupted. 

Garrett was smacking Bram on the arm and saying “way to go Greenfeld holy shit!” while Bram laughed and played into it. 

Leah and Abby are firing questions at Simon like it's nothing. How did this happen? How long had he been texting him? But seriously how did this happen?

Nick was glancing back and forth between both of them going “nowaynowaynowaynoway.” 

Simon didn’t care though. He laughed as Garrett and his friends got the most out of this sudden discovery, and in the midst of all the craziness, he met Brams eye, and his smile got impossibly wider. Bram smiled right back as he swatted Garretts arm away again, and the whole rest of the day couldn’t have done anything else to make him happier than that smile made him. 

Simon was good. 


End file.
